Page 27 of Bad Boy Done Wrong
“How’s number five?”
Her bright blue eyes sparkled with good humor. “Don’t ask; just do, bad boy.”
He couldn’t help his grin at her turn of phrase. “Don’t ask; just do. You sound like Yoda.”
“You sound like a man who’s not getting number five.”
He flipped her to her stomach and lifted her by the hips, taking her in one hard thrust. He groaned long and low.
“Yes!” she shouted like usual when he took charge.
She arched back into him and his brain shut down, primal need taking over. Fuck academics. Hewasan animal.
~ ~ ~
Carrie woke that night with a gasp, eyes wide open, heart pounding. Oh, thank God. It was just a dream. She was still in Zach’s bed. She’d been dreaming she showed up to her parents’ fiftieth anniversary vow renewal ceremony when it suddenly turned into her wedding to her awful ex Edward. He’d said all the vows and the minister didn’t care that she said nothing, the marriage went through. Final. Stuck forever. She’d tried to run but got nowhere, running in place, Edward’s hand clamped around her wrist.
She rolled over, searching for Zach, and found only an empty bed. Where was he? She checked the clock on the nightstand. Four a.m.
She rolled out of bed, wrapping the blanket around her bare shoulders, and padded out to the living room. He was asleep on the sofa. She stopped in front of him and stared in the dim streetlight filtering through the living room window. His legs were too long for the sofa and he had to sleep on his side, knees bent to fit. Why would he sleep out here when he had a king-size bed in the other room? Shit. It was because of her. That first night she’d been so worn out, she’d let herself fall asleep in his bed. And then he’d made her breakfast the next morning and it was all so wonderful, she kept doing it. She should’ve asked if it was okay to spend the night or, better yet, forced herself to wake up and drive home. Guilt stabbed at her, making her chest tight. He’d given up his bed for her without complaint.
But was it really so bad to sleep with her? They were so intimate with each other in other ways. Her throat tightened, suddenly hurt that he’d rather squish onto the uncomfortable sofa than sleep with her, even though she knew she had no right to be upset. This was probably his way of not getting too attached when they were only temporary. Her stomach rolled. Okay, she’d fix this. All of this fling stuff had been her idea, so now she’d make sure he went back to his bed, where he could stretch out and be more comfortable, and then she’d drive home.
She sat next to him and ran her fingers through his thick soft hair. “Zach?”
No response.
“Zach,” she said louder, “let’s get you back to your bed.”
He didn’t stir. She nudged him a few times, but he was out cold. He was much too big for her to get him there on her own. She didn’t want to go back to his bed alone, the nightmare wedding still fresh in her mind. She slid in next to him, lying on her side, her back to his front, and pulled his arm over her waist. There. His body warmed hers, his spicy male scent surrounded her, and she completely relaxed, falling into a deep sleep.
She woke in the early morning when Zach maneuvered her onto the sofa and himself off. “Hey,” she said softly, “I don’t want you to have to squish on the sofa.”
“You fall asleep before me.” He stood, looking down at her in his undershirt and red and black plaid boxers. “I don’t want to disturb you.”
She sat up. “Your legs are too long for the sofa. I’ll go home after so you can have the bed.”
He cupped her jaw and grazed his thumb over her cheek. “I’d never kick you out of bed.”
Her breath caught, surprised at the sweetness. “Okay, then, you can sleepwithme.”
He dropped his hand. “I’m just used to sleeping alone.” He left, heading toward the bedroom, probably for the connected bathroom.
She flopped back on the sofa, pressing a hand to her aching chest. What did she expect from a fling? It wasn’t like they did anything but have sex and eat breakfast together. This wasn’t a relationship, which was fine. Neither of them wanted that. He didn’t do long-term. She was glad. The last thing she needed was to lose herself again, all wrapped up in a man, supporting all of his dreams while neglecting her own.
A short while later, she heard Zach in the kitchen. Probably getting the coffee started. Lately she’d been noticing more and more of the considerate things he did. She told herself he would do them for anyone. He was still every bit the bad boy she’d hoped for, back from a mysterious no man’s land, a world traveler with survival skills, a skilled sensual lover that left her wrung out, limp and sated. He probably had a checkered past too. All the guys that hung out with the Campbell family did. She hadn’t pressed Zach to share intimate details and he hadn’t offered. Further evidence that this was a fling. Neither of them was interested in true intimacy.
He probably didn’t think twice about having coffee ready first thing when she woke. Or leaving an extra towel and washcloth for her on the dresser. Or cooking for her.
Or sleeping on the sofa so he wouldn’t disturb her sleep.
Had she been all wrong about him?
He stepped out of the kitchen and pulled his undershirt off in a quick two-handed move. That got her attention. Tanned skin, defined pecs and abs, those muscular wide shoulders. She sat up, hoping the boxers would drop next.
He inclined his head toward the bedroom. “Shower with a twist. You’ll like it.”
She shot off the sofa. It didn’t matter what he had in mind, all of his ideas were fantastic. And she not only liked it, shelovedit.
